The Last Battle
by HappyChaos3D
Summary: “I’d heal your brother but I can’t, not in this body. But with you as my vessel…” While following a lead in Detroit, Dean is severely wounded and Sam is faced with an impossible choice where any decision he makes would be the wrong one.


**Super duper long A/N** Sorry I haven't been here for a while. Why? It's a long story involving a comatose laptop, a borrowed computer and very, _very_ limited internet access. Since mid-November my laptop's been in and out of commission and all my writing is currently being held hostage, trapped on a computer that won't turn on to save its life. My other stories had chapters almost ready to go but well... can't quite access them because of my computer and I haven't found the motivation to rewrite them, even if I did when you're borrowing someone else's computer it's that much harder to find time to write. But don't worry, my other stories will be continued, I promise.

Anyway, my muse has been nagging me with this idea since... well before "Abandon All Hope" at least, and it's basically my interpretation of how the finale could possibly play out (though I'm sure Kripke and co have something much better planned for us than this fic has to offer). Possible spoilers up until then. So y'all know I'm not caught up with the rest of season 5 (which has been... torture for lack of a better word) so if there's anything in here that might be contradictory to anything the series has revealed since "Abandon All Hope" please overlook it and please don't spoil me. Same goes for any coincidental similarities that might've happened.

**Warning:** Please note the genre. I don't like spoilers so I hate to spoil my own story but for the sake of fanfiction etiquette please keep in mind that I don't use the word "tragedy" willy-nilly. However please don't let that discourage you either. While this is listed as complete as I wanted to post something that could stand on its own because of my lack of a computer right now, there will be more whether it's in the form of a sequel or another chapter (or two) I'm not sure, but it's already underway (albiet on paper, but I'm working on it). And I did try to keep the ending ambiguous and hopeful in spite of the genre. Please bear with me!

As always thank you so much to my faithful readers and reviewers. Y'all rock my socks. (wow, haven't used that phrase in a while)

Enjoy!

* * *

Sam was snoring. Dean risked taking his eyes off the road long enough to steal a glance at his brother and he grinned wanly at the sight with both sympathy and envy. They were both exhausted in every way possible, physically, mentally and yes, Dean was man enough to admit, _emotionally_, so as much as Dean wanted to pull over and switch seats so he too could get some much needed rest, he chose to let Sam sleep. Down time was rare nowadays, so they took what they could get. Dean could sleep later, when the job was done.

_Yeah_, he thought bitterly with a silent scoff, _like that would ever happen. _It wasn't like there was some magic 'pause' button to halt the Apocalypse for five _fucking_ minutes so they could regroup, strategize and get some _fucking_ shut eye for once.

Dean just wanted it to end. He was tired. Of everything. Even if they survived the apocalypse and came out victorious, there would always be evil out there to hunt, there would still always be a job to do. _Maybe when this is over, if I survive this shit, I'll retire. No more angels, no more demons, no more ghosts, poltergeists and wendigos and whatever else kind of shit there is out there. When this is over, Dean Winchester is _done_! Maybe if we get out of this alive I'll meet up with Lisa and Ben and we…_

He abandoned the thought, not allowing himself to continue his fantasy. He could never retire. Rufus was right, there was only one way out of the life, and that way was death. Sam could attest to that. He tried to get out of it, he tried for a happy, normal life and look how that turned out. Besides, Dean's conscience would never allow him to turn his back on people who needed his help.

A sign that whizzed past them on the road told Dean that they were now in Michigan. Castiel had called and informed them of an influx of demonic activity in the state. They were going to meet Rufus in Lansing so they could nip the demon problem in the bud. It didn't take long before a mileage sign informed them of how far it was to Detroit and the sight of the word gave Dean a weird feeling in his gut. He wasn't sure why exactly. Perhaps it was because in Zachariah's future, Sam was in Detroit when he said yes to Lucifer.

But there was nothing to worry about. Dean had come to the conclusion that Zachariah's version of the future was some sort of fabrication created to manipulate Dean into saying yes to Michael. The future wasn't set in stone. Besides, even if it were real, Sam wouldn't be saying yes until 2012. And another thing, Detroit wasn't on their demon killing itinerary. They were going to Lansing and they weren't going anywhere _near_ Detroit.

After a while, exhaustion began to settle deep into Dean's bones and he rubbed at his eyes to stay awake. The sun was just beginning to set and Dean heaved a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. It was time for a quick coffee break.

Pulling into a rest stop Dean looked back at his sleeping brother torn between waking him and letting him sleep. Sam solved the problem when he suddenly startled awake. He winced in pain and leaned forward, head between his knees.

"Sam? You OK?"

"Yeah," Sam replied as he caught his breath. "I'm good."

Dean snorted, sceptical, "Yeah right, that's why you've been sleeping so peacefully for hours and then waking up like _that_. What's going on?"

"Lucifer," Sam replied, his voice gravely. He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes.

"Get in your head again?"

Sam nodded, "Told me that we were close."

"Close?" Dean asked, "To what?"

"He wouldn't say," Sam replied, "I woke up before he could elaborate."

"How would he even know where the hell we are anyway?" Dean wondered. Suddenly a thought occurred to him and he glanced around the parking lot warily. "Angels can't find us, but…"

"You think he's got demons spying on us?" Sam asked, finishing the thought.

"Probably. Hey, if Zach can use some Jesus Freak to find me, why not?" Dean shrugged. "It's possible that this thing in Lansing's a trap."

Sam shook his head, "No."

"No?"

"If Lucifer's going to set a trap it wouldn't be in Lansing…unless he wanted to…" Sam coughed, clearing his throat again.

"Sam? What is it?" Dean asked.

"Never mind," Sam groaned, looking tired and defeated.

"Hey…" Dean started supportively.

"He's never going to stop, is he?" Sam asked. When Dean didn't answer Sam continued, "He'll just keep haunting me and harassing me until either I say yes or…"

"We kick his ass."

"But can we?"

"Yes, we can."

"We're just two people, Dean. I don't know how much longer I can do this," Sam confessed, "He won't leave me alone and look at all he's done, all the people he's hurt and killed just to get to me… I can't… I just can't…" Agitated and stressed his knee bounced and he bit at his nails, something he only did when he was in way over his head, overwhelmed to the limit.

"Well we're just going to have to convince Lucifer that you are not going to be his meat suit no matter what so he'd better just forget it," Dean shrugged with a grin.

Sam laughed weakly, appreciating the encouragement but knowing it was no use, "Yeah and how? Ask him nicely?"

"Sure," Dean replied, "Why not? If he has a problem with it then…"

"We kick his ass?"

"Now you're talking," Dean winked and flashed an echo of that trademark smirk that once shone with charisma but had faded with time and circumstance.

"I don't know if I'm strong enough to resist him much longer, what if…"

"Sam," Dean cut him off and gave him a pointed look. They could evaluate the 'what ifs' all they wanted, but it wouldn't do them any good, only make things worse.

Sam sighed, "He's not going to stop."

"We'll _make_ him stop," Dean insisted.

"How?"

"I'm not sure," Dean admitted, "but we'll find a way." He patted Sam's knee, "Come on, I need some coffee and we both need some grub." Sam nodded reluctantly and Dean flashed him a grin, a thinly veiled attempt to disguise the overwhelming concern he had for his brother.

It wasn't very often when Lucifer would come to Sam in his dreams, but when he did, it took its toll, leaving Sam shaken, filled with doubt, exhaustion and fear, throwing him off his game and it took a while for him to recover. This latest visit however took the cake. Lucifer really managed to get to him this time, more so than Dean had ever seen and it had Dean rattled.

They climbed out of the Impala in unison, something that they hadn't really been able to do in a while. Shutting his door Dean offered, "After we eat you can go back to sleep, get some more rest before we get to Lansing."

"No," Sam shook his head, "I think I've had enough sleep," he shuddered, turning to Dean. "You look like crap…"

"Look who's talking…"

"…you need your rest too. It's my turn to drive."

Dean sighed, "We'll see."

Sam rolled his eyes, an action that only intensified his growing headache but Dean was already on his way inside so he didn't notice the grimace that crossed Sam's face. He had a bad feeling about this trip. Just being present in Michigan alone made him uncomfortable, and now with Lucifer paying him a visit… but they were going to Lansing, not Detroit, not the place where Lucifer prophesized that Sam would be when he said 'yes'.

As far as Sam knew, Dean didn't know why Sam didn't want to go to Michigan, he didn't know that if there was ever a place in the world Sam didn't want to even be near it was Detroit. When he found out they were heading for Michigan, Sam tried to tell himself that Lucifer was probably just messing with him when he said that Sam would say 'yes' in Detroit but it couldn't be a coincidence that shortly after arriving in the state Lucifer passed along the message that he was close.

Once inside, Dean went to find a table at the truck stop diner and Sam went into the bathroom. He washed his face in an attempt to look more alive, the florescent lighting only made him look as crappy as he felt, highlighting the dark circles under his exhausted eyes and the paleness of his skin. They needed a break, a break that Sam doubted they'd ever truly get. No matter how optimistic Dean tried to be, keyword 'tried' because it was clear in his brother's weary eyes that he too was losing hope at a steady rate, Sam just doubted that it would end well for either of them whether they said 'yes' or not.

Sam took a deep breath and left the solitude of the dirty truck stop bathroom and went into the diner. Dean was already seated, a menu was placed in front of him on the table but he wasn't looking at it. He was on his phone, a serious, sombre expression on his face. Sam was struck by how weary and downtrodden Dean looked. He didn't look like the man who vowed that they'd never be Heaven and Hell's pawns, who would never give up no matter how bleak it looked, no, _this_ Dean didn't think anyone who mattered was looking, therefore this Dean wasn't wearing his fractured and weary Game Face, this Dean looked like he was ready to throw in the towel. This Dean looked like he was about to give up, surrender, _anything_ if it meant all this shit would be over.

But Sam knew that Dean would never give in to his own wishes for peace. Dean's selfless nature meant he wasn't going to surrender. Ever. Not with the weight of the world literally resting on his shoulders. Not with the world unknowingly counting on him to kick Lucifer's ass and save them from the Apocalypse. Dean once said that he believed the world would end bloody but he was going to go down swinging. And he had. He did. And he was willing to do it again if that was what it took, even after all he had been through. Sam knew it and it made him proud just as much as it broke his heart.

Taking in a deep gulp of air Sam watched as Dean lifted his eyes and saw Sam standing in the diner entrance. The hopeless despair was immediately replaced with grim determination as he tilted his chin and silently motioned Sam over as he finished his conversation with whoever was on the phone.

Sam swallowed back the guilt that crept into his conscience. Not long ago he repeatedly said that Dean was weak, that Hell had changed him. And it had, it had there was no denying that, but just as Sam had accused Dean of being weak, Sam had boasted about being the strong one burdened with having to care for his PTSD suffering brother _and_ who had to save the world. Funny how that turned out. Turned out Sam wasn't strong at all and instead of saving the world, he betrayed his brother and started the Apocalypse.

The truth was _Sam_ was the weak one, _Dean_ was the strong one. Now that Ruby was gone and the veil was lifted Sam could see it, and he marvelled at it. How could anyone other than Dean suffer through what he did and still find the strength to fight a losing battle to the bitter, bloody end? Sam, who had suffered a lot in the last five years since Jessica's death yet couldn't hold a candle to Dean's pain, wasn't sure how much more he could take before he surrendered to Lucifer.

_I think you're going to say yes about six months from now. In Detroit._

And here they were, roughly six months after losing Ellen and Jo, after finding out that the weapon they were counting on to kill Lucifer was useless, and they were only an hour or so out of Detroit. And Sam? Sam wanted it to end, one way or another and he doubted he was strong enough to carry on much longer without surrendering to Lucifer.

He slid into the booth across from his brother and pretended to look at the menu. "Who was on the phone?" Sam asked quietly, casually. He cleared his throat.

Dean pocketed the phone and kneaded away at an obvious headache and replied, "Rufus. There's been a change in plans."

"Oh?" Sam lifted his head at that.

"He'll be meeting us in Detroit," Dean continued.

"Why Detroit?" he asked, trying to sound casual but his voice shook as he spoke. Luckily Dean didn't seem to notice.

"The demons have moved out of Lansing. Rufus managed to catch one of them before they left and he learned that something will be going down, something big. And soon."

All the color drained from his face and Sam leaned his head back burying his face in his hands, "A-and wh-what's supposed to be happening?"

"Don't know. Wouldn't say," Dean shrugged wearily. He glanced at his brother, "Sam? Are you OK?"

Sam nodded once, the words 'yeah, I'm fine' dying on his lips to be replaced by one word. "No."

"What is it?" Dean asked, "What's wrong?"

"We can't go to Detroit," Sam stated.

"What?"

"We can't—"

"I heard you, I heard you but why not? Rufus needs us to be there," Dean snapped, his nerves already on edge. He leaned forward, tilting his head as his eyes seemed to pierce through him, "Sam?"

"Because," Sam replied quietly, looking away, avoiding his brother's gaze.

Dean sighed, ran a hand over his face as he took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, shakily, looking so exhausted that if Sam didn't know his brother he would think Dean was on the verge of passing out right there in the diner and sleeping until next week. How Dean managed to keep going in spite of it all was beyond Sam. Sam felt ready to crack at any moment.

"Because why?" Dean asked, softer this time. He leaned forward, his eyes silently urging him to continue. "Sam, is there something you're not telling me?" He didn't sound accusing but there was slight distrust in his voice, a distrust that Sam knew he deserved, even after all this time.

"Because it's a trap," Sam replied.

Leaning back slightly Dean bowed his head in frustration or maybe exhaustion, Sam couldn't tell. "I know it is," he said quietly, "but that's never stopped us before and it can't stop us now."

"The trap is for me," Sam murmured, "Lucifer will be there."

"Did he tell you that when he was…" Dean let his voice trail off and he vaguely gestured the second half of the sentence, his eyes flicking towards the Impala as he tapped his head.

"No," Sam shook his head, "All he said in my dream just now is that we're close. I thought he was messing with my head because we're here in Michigan and he knew it somehow but… now that we're going to Detroit…"

"Why Detroit? What's so significant about Detroit?" Dean asked, tensing slightly, recalling the future Zachariah showed him, remembering where the future Sam said 'yes'.

"A few months ago, when you tried to use the Colt on Lucifer and he uh… well while you were out for the count he told me that I was going to… _you_ _know_, in Detroit," Sam explained.

Dean rolled his shoulders, tensing his jaw as he took it in and then finally nodded, "You're not going to say 'yes' to Lucifer Sam."

"How do you know that?" Sam asked.

"Because I know you," Dean replied with a shrug, "You're not giving in. Lucifer was just trying to mess with you, shatter your confidence but I _know_ you're not going to give him what he wants."

"How?" Sam asked.

"Because for one thing, six billion people are counting on you saying no," Dean replied.

Sam swayed in his seat at the weight of that statement, "What if I'm not strong enough?"

"You are Sam, you have to be," Dean replied. "I have faith in you, no matter what happens, you're going to do the right thing. I know it."

And those words bore so much weight that Sam thought he might crumble. Instead he smiled weakly and replied, "I hope so."

* * *

They arrived in Detroit early in the evening. Sam nervously looked around at the crowds of people going about their daily lives. He swallowed hard. The poor fools had no idea what was coming. While he tried not to, Sam's imagination ran wild and he envisioned himself standing in the heart of Detroit, the city in ruins, bodies littering the broken streets and sidewalks, standing and smiling over Dean's body, his brother's heart in his hands because Lucifer had the wheel. Just the mental image alone made Sam feel dizzy and weak.

_I think you're going to say yes about six months from now, in Detroit._

Sam wanted to throw up.

Dean put a hand on his shoulder, "It's going to be OK," he said, almost looking like he believed his own words, "don't let Lucifer mess with you, we're not even entirely sure he's here."

Sam just nodded.

Dean drove to the outskirts of the city towards one of the many factories in the country that hadn't survived the recession. It was big and abandoned, a great place for a bunch of demons to gather. "Rufus said to meet him here," Dean said quietly.

"Where is he?"

"Maybe he's not here yet?" Dean shrugged, a strange feeling in his gut. Something was wrong, he could feel it, and judging by the look in Sam's eyes and stiff roll of his shoulders, he could sense it too. Dean took a deep breath, "Come on." He climbed out of the impala and headed for the trunk. He loaded up on weapons, made sure he had the Colt safely stowed in the inside pocket of his jacket, Sam double checked to make sure he had the knife, they both made sure they had an ample supply of holy water and everything they'd need to trap an angel.

The place was eerily quiet and as they circled the parameter there wasn't another soul in sight. No sign of anyone.

"You'd think there'd at least be a security guard here," Sam whispered.

Dean nodded as he looked around. There was nothing there. No sign of life at all. There weren't even any birds. There was nothing. The air felt thick and heavy and it was so quiet Dean wasn't sure how much more he could take.

He pulled out his cell and dialled Rufus. Nothing. He opened his mouth to leave a message on his voicemail but thought better of it. If something happened to Rufus he did not want the wrong person, demon or angel to know where they were. He hung up and tried Cas. Voicemail. He tried Bobby. Nothing.

"No one's answering," Dean murmured, shivering at the silence of the place. There wasn't even any city sounds off in the distance. It was like they were the only two souls left.

"Shall we take a look inside?" Sam asked. Dean nodded and together they headed for the side entrance. Just as Dean had the lock picked the sudden caw of a crow startled them both. The bird perched on a cement pillar just a few yards away from the entrance.

"Feel like I'm in "The Stand"," Dean shuddered.

Sam said nothing, just slipped in ahead. They traipsed stealthily through the abandoned factory, looked through offices and finally the main warehouse. There wasn't a sign of anything, the only sound was their breath and the echo of their footsteps. All was quiet until Sam sniffed and then whispered, "Do you smell something?"

Dean smelled the air, the color draining from his face, "Gas?"

"Shit!"

They ran like mad towards the exit, Sam reached the door and pushed it open just as an explosion ripped through the building. Sam could feel his brother's hand pushing him forward, the heat at his back, the sting of flying debris whipping at him. He heard his brother call his name, a cry of pain, and a loud whoosh. He pushed through the door, covered his head with his jacket and dove for cover. He felt something slam into his shoulder and then he felt nothing.

* * *

The debris settled and cleared, sprinklers extinguished most of the fires, but not all of them worked so in some places fire from the explosion still burned, still licked at anything flammable.

Groaning Sam shifted, feeling a sharp pain in his shoulder that had him cry out as he blinked his eyes open. As soon as the faint light reached his eyes he squeezed them shut again, wincing in pain. There was a weight on him, preventing him from drawing in a full breath and he shoved it off. When he dared to try opening his eyes again he realized it was the door to their exit. Feeling cold and wet and hot he grunted as he fought to catch his breath and gather his bearings. He didn't quite make it out of the building like he thought he had but luckily the explosion wasn't as big and destructive as it had felt. The factory warehouse was a mess, but it was still standing.

"Dean?" he whispered, coughing suddenly. He twisted to look at the damage to his shoulder but couldn't get a good enough look. It felt like something was embedded in there. "Dean?" the cough cleared his throat enough to find his voice. He slowly one-handedly pushed himself to his feet and promptly fell against the wall, dizzily, unsteadily, head throbbing. Dean had been right behind him, so where could he be?

It only took a moment more to find him. He just needed to turn his head the other way and suddenly he wasn't even aware of the pain in his shoulder or head or other lesser injuries—all the pain suddenly transferred to his heart when he saw his brother.

"No. Nonononono…." Sam whispered as he rushed towards his brother. It was bad, very bad. Dean was awkwardly pushed against the wall, a metal pole of some sort was lanced into his right shoulder, pinning him upright to the wall like a butterfly specimen, his left side was drooped over a heavy metal table that was crushed against him, blood poured from a gash on his head, blood spilled from his mouth and just out of range from the sprinklers, Dean was on fire.

Without a moments hesitation he threw off his own damp jacket, the agony in his own shoulder barely registering and he used it to suffocate the small fire on Dean's jacket, but the damage had been done. His jacket had melted and moulded to his skin, his left hand, limply resting on the metal table was red, raw, and blistering and the smell of burnt flesh had Sam gagging. "No no nonono…" Sam whispered, shakily feeling his brother's neck for a pulse, shocked and relieved when he found it.

The relief was short lived however when he realized how bad it really was. Between the table and the wall, Dean's lower half was well and truly crushed, the corner of the table disappeared into his abdomen, practically cutting him in half and yet it was also the only thing holding his insides together. Any attempt to free Dean and get him out of there would kill him. In that moment Sam knew that there was no way Dean would survive and even if on the smallest chance he did… Sam felt dizzy as he staggered backwards. "No no nononono…" he whispered, "no…" Shaking he pushed Dean's left shoulder into the wall, holding him upright, relieving the pressure on his impaled shoulder, Dean's head lolling limply forward. More blood gushed from Dean's mouth, spattering onto Sam clothes.

Sam sobbed into Dean's uninjured shoulder, gently wrapping his arm around his brother. This was bad. Very bad. What was he going to do? What…? With shaking hands he grabbed his cell and tried to call Castiel. Maybe he could… maybe he… no, Castiel couldn't heal Bobby so he wouldn't be able to…but this was _Dean_. Dean was everyone's last hope. Dean was _Sam's_ last hope. Without Dean… without his brother how could he possibly keep fighting? How could he possibly keep going? How could he possibly keep on saying 'no'?

The phone slipped from his hands, hitting the floor with a 'clink' as a small moan caught Sam's attention.

"Mmm…"

"Dean?" Sam breathed. Surprised, startled. Sam didn't think Dean would ever regain consciousness and yet slowly Dean's eyes fluttered.

"Sss…" he tried but then he began to choke, weakly coughing up even more blood. Sam gently kneaded his uninjured shoulder in comfort, careful of the burns on his arm.

"It's OK, I'm right here," Sam murmured wincing at the lie. It was far from OK… but what else could he do? What else could he say?

Dean's eyes opened, glassy and bright, the green practically shining in the murky darkness. "I can't…can't…" he choked again.

"Easy," Sam soothed, "take it easy."

"I don't…" Dean squeezed his eyes shut, his face contorting in agony, "can't feel my legs…" he finally choked out as more blood bubbled from his mouth. Gasping desperately he rolled his head back, eyes wandering as he cried out, shaking and shuddering as he rode out a wave of pain that rippled through his upper half. "Shit…" he rasped.

Sam placed both hands on Dean's face, forcing him to look at him. "Take it easy, it's going to be OK…"

"You're su-su-such…a….terr'ble…liar," he coughed, more blood spilled from his mouth, evidence of how badly he was bleeding internally. Dean blinked, a shaky, wheezy, gasp for air had him trembling, "'M a…a…dead man…"

Tears fell from Sam's eyes, "Hey, _hey_," he choked out, trying to keep his voice from breaking, "don't say that!" He gently shook Dean's head forcing him to look at him again as Dean's eyes slowly began to droop closed, "I'm going to get you help, OK? Just hang on." He started to pull away but Dean's charred hand felt for Sam's arm and weakly gripped at Sam's shirt. His bright, glassy, unfocused green eyes searched for Sam's, silently begging him not to leave him. "Dean, _please_," he begged, "let me get some help."

"Both…both know it's not…'m not…" Dean shuddered, a low cry escaped his lips, "th-this…'s it f'r me…"

"No," Sam smiled despairingly, "no." He bowed his head, burying his face in Dean's shoulder. He felt Dean slide his burnt hand up his back as Dean dropped his head to rest on Sam's, his other hand weakly gripping Sam's injured shoulder but the pain hardly registered with Sam.

"'S OK S'mmy," his voice was hoarse, barely a whisper but it was comforting and Sam felt like a pathetic and weak fool for accepting it. It should be the other way around. Why should Dean waste his energy comforting _him_?

"It's not," Sam sobbed, "I need you big brother...and like you said, we keep each other _human_."

Dean gently, comfortingly rubbed Sam's back as best he could and whispered, "P-prom-promise me y-you'll…k-kick Lu-Luc'fer's ass... f'r me."

It suddenly reminded Sam of Jo and Ellen's last moments and Sam laughed bitterly, mournfully. He shook his head, biting his lip he choked out another sob.

Sam knew he wouldn't be strong enough without Dean by his side because without him, he tended to fall off the deep end. First when the Trickster—_Gabriel—_killed Dean off for a few months, fuelling the dark vengeful nature he regrettably inherited from their father, then after Dean went to Hell and Ruby—_the bitch—_came along, igniting that need for vengeance. And finally that brief time when they went their separate ways. If that time apart lasted much longer, Sam knew that he might've eventually surrendered to his addiction again, maybe even said 'yes' to Lucifer, without Dean to anchor him, it was only a matter of time.

"I can't…" Sam cried softly in response, "I'm…'m not strong enough."

Sam's confession had him pull back to face Dean again so Dean could see the desperation in his eyes. So Dean could see that his survival was paramount not only to the angels and the rest of the world but to Sam's own survival.

"Yes you are."

Despite the bloodloss and the burns, despite the fact he was inches from death, Dean's voice sounded remarkably strong and sure, but sounding that way took a lot out of him and he rolled his head back and whimpered desperately. Sam grasped his shoulders, careful with the injured one, pressed his forehead against Dean's.

"I can't fight this without you," Sam continued.

"You can…will." He whimpered again, his body trembling. His breathing was quick, shaky, shallow and it was on the verge of hyperventilation. His eyes rolled back and he breathed in quick staccatos to keep it together. He cried out again.

Sam blinked hard, it was killing him to watch his brother suffer from wounds he knew Dean couldn't recover from. Suddenly though a thought occurred to him and he smiled hopefully, his eyes wide and almost crazy, "The-the angels…they'll just bring you back. They need you, you'll be fine!"

"D'n wan' 'em to…" Dean slurred, his eyes slowly drifting shut.

Swallowing in sorrow Sam took a moment to let the profound weight of that statement to settle. It wasn't a new revelation but… Taking a quick swipe at the tears in his eyes Sam shook him again, careful not to jar his injuries, "Dean! Hey, stay with me!"

"They can't bring him back," said a soft, deceptively sympathetic voice from behind him, "they won't be able to find him."

Sam spun around, not surprised to see Lucifer and a small entourage of demons standing behind them. The demons were smiling in triumph but Lucifer looked sad, concerned, sympathetic. _Liar_. Sam squared his shoulders, feeling a sharp pull in his injured one but he ignored it. He stood to his full height and moved protectively between Lucifer and his dying brother. "I should've known you'd show up. Always knew this was a trap."

"Oh it was a trap," Lucifer nodded, still looking concerned but his eyes sparkled in victory, "but the trap was actually for me."

"Excuse me?"

"Your good friend Rufus set you up."

"Liar."

"Oh it's the truth Sam. Found out you're my vessel, must've decided ending you would end me. Set the bomb. Told me where you were going to be, thinking he could trap me too," Lucifer continued, "didn't quite work though, did it? Looks like he missed his target."

Lucifer took a step forward, Sam took a step back, bumping into Dean who groaned at the sudden, jarring contact. Sam gently rested his hand on his brother's injured shoulder, careful of the metal pole impaling it and gave him a reassuring squeeze. He spared a quick glance. Dean's eyes were mere slits, open just enough to see what was going on but he clearly no longer had the strength to open them all the way. Sam turned back to Lucifer, "Heal him." It wasn't a question, it wasn't a plea, it was a demand, a threat, _If you don't heal him then so help me…_

Tsking in pity Lucifer shook his head, "Sam, Sam, Sam… you know I'd love to," he sounded kind, he lowered his head in what could easily be perceived as regret, though Sam knew better, "but I can't."

Sam scoffed, "Why would you want to anyway? He's the enemy, isn't he?"

"I can't, not without you. Let me in Sam and then…"

"Heal my brother first and _maybe_ we'll talk," Sam's voice was cold. He felt Dean grasp his shirt, saw the pleading denial in his eyes.

Lucifer stepped forward again, motioned his entourage to stay put, "Sam, you know I'd do anything for you. Even heal your brother but the fact is that I _can't_. Not in this body. This vessel is barely holding on as it is, but if you…"

"N…"

The sound coming from Dean was weak, hoarse, barely audible. He was shaking now, his face impossibly white from bloodloss. Sam was surprised he lasted this long considering the extent of his injuries.

"Dean," Sam wiped away a tear, "I…"

"Don'…"

"It's the only way."

"N'ver f'rgive y' 'f…"

"I don't care," Sam whispered. "Hate me all you want I can't…"

Though it obviously hurt to do so, though it took almost all the energy he had left, Dean shook his head, "Yeah y' can." He coughed weakly, more blood spilling out, his face contorting in agony before glassy green eyes suddenly bore into Sam's, desperate, pleading.

"No," Sam said, this time to Lucifer, his eyes cold and defiant, his hand still resting on Dean's shoulder, his touch absorbing the uncontrollable shivers of shock.

"He'll die if you don't, Sam," Lucifer stated.

"Zachariah or one of the other angels will bring him back," Sam hissed, "he's too important. This stupid trick of yours isn't going to work."

"Like I told you before, this isn't a trick. I had nothing to do with your brother getting hurt. I promised you that I wouldn't lie to you, I wouldn't trick you or manipulate you and I've kept that promise. But if you don't say 'yes' Sam, your brother will die and like I said just now but you clearly chose to ignore, the angels won't be able to bring him back, those Enochian symbols hiding you from us will continue to hide him in the afterlife and I'm sorry Dean," Lucifer tilted his head towards the dying man pinned upright against the wall, "for you that surely means Hell."

"No!" Sam snapped, feeling his brother tense underneath his touch, "You're lying!"

"Of course, I don't know for sure, but surely breaking your vow to the angels, constantly defying them, defying the Heavenly Father, not to mention the deal you made… are you even certain that just because Castiel raised you from Perdition that your contract is now void? You broke the first seal, you were given a task and refused to follow through even after taking a sacred oath…"

"Shut _up_!" Sam yelled as Dean's breath hitched, his previous acceptance of his imminent death turning into fear and doubt. Sam squeezed Dean's shoulder in a reassuring attempt to calm him.

Lucifer raised his hands in mock surrender, "I'm just saying." Even he, the master of deception couldn't hide his smirk.

"You fucking bastard! I am going to kill you!"

"No, you're not," Lucifer smiled, "the only one who can is standing behind you. Dying."

Sam flicked his eyes towards Dean and then back to Lucifer, his jaw quivering in repressed fury.

"Clocks ticking Sam, what's it going to be? Once he's gone there's nothing I can do," Lucifer said, "and by the looks of things we only have seconds left to decide, a minute or two at most."

. "I'm sorry Dean," he whispered so softly only his brother could hear him. Dean forced his eyes open, he could no longer speak but his eyes screamed, _No Sammy, don't give in. Please don't give Lucifer what he wants! Not for me._

Sam closed his eyes, indecision evident on his face. He took a deep breath.

"Tick tock, Sammy."

Clenching his jaw Sam reached gently into Dean's pocket for the Colt. Sam balanced the mythical weapon in his hands a moment before he lifted the Colt, aimed it at one of the demons and fired. He aimed at another one and fired. The other two were cowards—they saw what was happening and evacuated their hosts, leaving through their mouths in high pitched screeches. Sam's eye twitched, his nostrils flared. He wanted to kill them all. He aimed at Lucifer.

"You know that's not going to kill me," Lucifer shook his head and smiled, "Sam… just, come on. I can heal your brother and together we can work miracles, if you just let me in. It's destiny."

"Destiny? What coming to Detroit to this fucking factory, watching my brother die, _again_, just so I can become your vessel? That's destiny?"

"Well, not in so many words," Lucifer said with a shrug, "Sam I'll do anything for you. Anything. I'm not the villain history has painted me to be…"

Sam looked at Dean and a silent exchange went on between them.

"…this world is so beautiful and to see it slowly disintegrate, watch it wither and die…" Lucifer shook his head sadly, "Let me in. You have to hurry. Odds are that when your brother draws his final breath, he won't be finding himself at some pearly gates. No, Dean's destined for the rack, you think they'll let him into Heaven after all the trouble he caused? And it could be centuries before anyone found him _assuming_ that there'd be any angels still looking."

"I'm sorry Dean," Sam whispered.

_Sam, no_. He couldn't say it, but his eyes spoke volumes.

"He's not going to stop and I can't… I can't risk you going back to Hell I can't…"

Dean blinked, his head fell forward, blood spilled from his mouth and for a moment Sam feared he was too late and that it was over. But Dean was too stubborn to let go just yet, he lifted his eyes a soft hiss escaping his mouth. Sam leaned forward and Dean whispered in his ear. Sam shook his head in denial, sobbing and Dean's eyes sparkled with faith and love.

Lucifer frowned, hating being left in the dark to their private exchange.

Sam nodded reluctantly, tears falling freely down his face. Sam kissed the top of his brother's head. A goodbye? An apology?

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered.

Sam lifted the Colt aimed it at Lucifer.

"I thought we already established that that won't kill me."

"I know." Sam's voice was hard, cold, determined.

"Let me in, Sam, become my vessel," Lucifer tried to keep his cool, a calm, serene expression on his slowly disintegrating face but underneath there was a slight begging tone in his voice. He glanced at Dean who looked like he was unconscious but miraculously enough still alive. "It's destiny."

Sam's hand began to shake as he cocked the gun, "Destiny?" He stepped away from Dean, taking a few steps towards Lucifer, "I am sick and tired of everyone prattling on about _destiny_," Sam snapped.

"I know," Lucifer nodded condescendingly, "I know. But if you let your brother die and he'll most likely end up in Hell and there'd be no one left who could stop me…"

Sam faltered.

"Let me in."

Sam's lip quivered, his eyes drifting back to Dean.

"I'm sorry Dean. I am so, so sorry."

"I can save your brother but only with you as my vessel."

"I'm sorry."

Dean's eyes opened one last time, faith, trust and love burning brightly. He met Sam's gaze and slowly, imperceptibly he nodded. _I trust you._

Faltering for just a fraction of a second Sam sobbed quietly before turning his attention back to Lucifer. "You want me to let you in? To save Dean? Well, here's what I have to say to your offer," Sam hissed, suddenly his aim shifted away from Lucifer to rest on Dean.

"No!" Lucifer hissed.

_BANG!!_

The bullet hit Dean squarely in the chest. He grunted briefly at the impact and then fell silent and still.

"Fuck you!" Sam screamed, sobbing uncontrollably, "Fuck you I will never be your vessel!"

With his only leverage, his only bargaining chip against Sam gone, killed by Sam's own hand, Lucifer knew once and for all that Sam meant it. Lucifer knew that nothing he could say or do now would ever convince Sam to say yes. Lucifer knew he lost.

Falling to his knees in despair Sam pressed the Colt against his temple.

In that moment several things happened seemingly all at once.

Lucifer lunged like a drowning man desperate for air, refusing to let Sam kill himself, willing to torture Sam into submission if he had to.

Sam cocked his weapon, believing that when he pulled the trigger both body and soul would be destroyed forever but with Dean gone, body and soul, what did it matter? At least then Lucifer would never get his intended vessel. Let someone else fight this war. Sam Winchester was _done_.

Castiel suddenly appeared beside Sam, grabbing the Colt from Sam's grasp with one hand just as Sam pulled the trigger, the shot firing harmlessly in the air and placed his other hand on Sam's shoulder, both vanishing from sight.

Suddenly left alone, Lucifer cursed in frustration.

Dean's eyes opened.

"Lucifer," Dean hissed.

Frozen in place by the sound of his name Lucifer's eyes shifted to Dean's body. Only it wasn't Dean's body anymore.

"Michael."

* * *

The End.

-

For now.

* * *

A/N See? Ambiguous right? Hopeful, right? Can go either way on the whole 'deathfic' issue, right? Yes? No? Maybe? (Ducks for cover and hides begging, "Please don't hate me!")

Honestly, my muse and my heart were in conflict about the ending. While in my heart I wanted a happier ending, (because I don't like deathfics in general) my muse wanted to end this with the line "Lucifer knew he lost" which I think might've been the better ending from a writer's POV since I wrote this asking the question of how far would Sam go, how much would he sacrifice to prove his loyalty to his brother? And what would be the ultimate way for Sam to deny Lucifer access to his (_perfect/sexy/beautiful_) meat suit once and for all? Turned out my muse and my heart compromised. Hoped it worked and I really hope you don't hate me for doing this.

So please stay tuned for either a sequel or another chapter, and there will definitely be one because ultimately, I just _can't_ leave it there.

In the meantime, reviews are love. Love it or hate it I'd love to hear from you.


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